The Sound of Silence
by KillerSnowball
Summary: After being given a second chance at life, will Severus Snape squander it on foolish words and reservation, or will he learn that out of the stillness and silence that follow the horrors of war, life can begin anew? Canon compliant save for the survival of our Snape. Look for humorous situations, adult themes, some darkness. Doses of BDSM may emerge.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- This little story has become a new itch. Until Of Gold and Steel is completed, expect these chapters to come slowly.

Snow

* * *

The Sound of Silence

Chapter One

* * *

Minerva McGonagall stood outside the classroom, her head cocked to the side as she listened to the sound of thumping from within. The thumping was the reason she'd come so far from Hogwarts. She folded her hands before herself, listening intently as the rhythm of what sounded like African tribal drumming picked up its pace. Her gaze flicked down to the letter folded neatly into her grip, a letter that had come most unexpectedly and presented her with the unique opportunity. She glanced down the hallway of the third floor of the Sumner School of Magic, and found herself quite alone for a brief moment in time. The letter was duly unfolded and read again, simply to ensure there was no mistake.

_Professor McGonagall, _

_ I can't thank you enough for your letter of recommendation to the Ministry for my apprenticeship; it has opened more doors than you know. I've settled in at the Sumner School of Magic quite nicely, though the weather is so very different from Hogwarts, and Atlanta can be a bit stuffy, it is lovely, and a nice change of pace. When I arrived, I expected my Mentor to be frightening, rigid, and almost as intimidating as Professor Snape. My apprehension was unmerited though, and I find the apprenticeship to be enjoyable, and the Potion's Mistress here to be good company. _

_ She is a woman who is known in those circles, and in his last letter, even Professor Snape had words regarding her that were not unkind. From him, they were high praise indeed. He did mention that she was known for her unorthodox approach to teaching, and I've come to understand full well what that means. Unorthodox is an apt term, but her techniques are quite effective. Professor Snape's most recent letter mentioned that you would soon be looking for a teacher to serve as his replacement this term for the position of Potion's Master at Hogwarts. He obviously doesn't know I'm writing you, he would be livid. Let's just say that he does not agree with unorthodox… anything. _

_ I have not mentioned this either, to Elizabeth Connell either, you really need to see her in action. If ever you trusted me, Professor, I ask you to trust me now. Attending one of her classes alone is worth the visit, and it would be so very nice to see someone from home. _

_ All the best, _

_ Hermione_

Minerva had received the letter almost two weeks ago, at the Easter holidays. A few well-placed plans, some quiet arrangements and off she'd gone. Snape had been absolutely appalled when she had mentioned the potential new teacher, even more snarky when he'd found out it was an American, though when she had pressed him about the name, he had grudgingly admitted the witch had skills. "A keen mind, but a blunted pen." He'd said, and Minerva had fought back a smile.

The sound of the beat inside the room and she braced herself against the potential headache as she folded the letter once more and tucked it away. She stepped into the room, instantly finding herself blasted by the tribal drumming she'd heard. A muggle style cd player sat on a low table at the side of the room, and speakers mounted high on the walls around the room lent the distinct impression she'd stumbled into the wrong room. However, the sight of teenagers leaning over the bubbling cauldrons proved her wrong. Here and there, feet stomped along to the beat, and the a few hands tapped on the table, keeping time. Minerva slipped to the back of the room, observing quietly. At the front of the room, a young woman snapped her fingers in time to the beat. She spoke not a word, simply kept her fingers above her head as she began to make her way down the left side of the classroom, apparently oblivious to Minerva's presence.

Only a few feet away, Hermione Granger moved behind the woman, her hair pulled neatly back into a severe bun that brought a smile to Minerva's face. The young Miss Granger had indeed grown in the past year, and now possessed the full measure of grace that had been so long in coming. The instructor lowered her hand, tapping one young man on the shoulder, her finger flying once she'd gotten his attention. Hermione's voice came from beside the teacher, directed at the lad. "Lower the heat a bit." The young man flushed and nodded, bowing his head back to his work as his foot faltered before finding the beat once more.

Minerva watched as the young woman came to a stop at the last row, her brow furrowing as she caught sight of the stranger standing by the door. A questioning glance was given toward Miss Granger, along with the elegant fluttering of fingers. Hermione gave Minerva a sweet smile as she responded to whatever question had been asked. Minerva's questions were confirmed in that moment as she recognized vaguely some form of sign language. A smile tipped up the corners of her lips. Granger seemed rather adept at it, fluid even and moved forward with the woman, her voice lifting. "When you've finished your potions, bottle them and leave your samples on the desk. We'll review tomorrow before the final exam on Monday."

The teacher gave her a faint smile, though there was perhaps a trace of nervousness with it. Minerva inclined her head toward the young woman and remained where she was. Hermione approached, her arms slipping around McGonagall's shoulder in a warm hug. "Professor, you got my letter."

Minerva offered a smile. "I did, Miss Granger. You were right, Severus was quite put out that you mentioned it to me, but I'm glad you did. I was wondering just what you both meant by 'unorthodox', and I see now."

Her eyes strayed to the students once more, observing them. For the most part, they seemed relax, their movements precisely timed to the beat of the drums as they stirred and simmered. She'd never, in all her years at Hogwarts, seen a single student of Potions so relaxed, not even under Slughorn. The technique did bear exploring, however unorthodox it might seem. Hermione spoke once more. "Professor Connell asked me to show you to her office. She'll join us once the class is dismissed."

McGonagall nodded, her eyes flicking over the classroom once more before turning to go. "I could do with a bit of tea, Miss Granger. I have plenty of questions, and best not to do it on an empty stomach."

* * *

Elizabeth Connell flicked her eyes toward the door as her apprentice and the older woman left. The visitor was expected, certainly not unwelcome, and yet it still brought up a case of nerves, as though she were a mere girl once more up for examination by the board that had granted her license. The last student filed up to the desk, placing the pepper-up potion on the immaculately kept surface. She waited impatiently for the last of the sophmores to file out of the room before slipping out herself and warding the door before making her way to her office.

The door was open when she arrived, a pot of tea placed on the low table between the two pairs of wingback chairs the flanked the massive fireplace. She cleared her throat, pushing the door closed behind her and crossing the small space to where the two women sat. Immediately, they both rose. Elizabeth inclined her head politely, accepting the older woman's hand before lowering into the chair across from her. Hermione's hands flew, nimble fingers confirming the woman's identity. Elizabeth relaxed as she studied her foe. The woman appeared stern, though her eyes were kind, a critical gleam in them as she sipped her tea. When she lowered the cup, her lips moved, and to Elizabeth's surprise the worst fear she'd had proved to be unfounded. Despite the quirk of the accent that was apparent, she could understand every word as she read her lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Connell. Miss Granger spoke quite highly of you. I was curious to see your teaching methods and now I confess, I'm even more so."

Elizabeth struggled to keep the nervousness from her voice as she broke her silence, a quick glance to her apprentice confirming that she was speaking at a soft volume. "Thank you. It's a method that a few schools began to experiment with several years ago and so far has proven quite successful with the students. Potions is an art that requires precision, as much as Arithmancy or anything else based in the magical sciences." She paused for a moment, leaning to pour her own cup as she continued. "The theory of rhythm might seem radical, but my student's performances had greatly improved in the last two years since I implemented the method."

It was controversial at best. Over a thousand years of tradition in potion making had been set on its ear when the technique of disrupting the usual silence of the potions lab was traded for blasting Nine Inch Nails at fledgling ears. Thank God she didn't have to hear that crap. It had proven oddly successful though, and she was grateful that she herself, only felt the music through her toes, or her hands on the surface, rather than hearing it at the volume the children had to. The irony of loud music used in the classroom of a deaf music was not lost on her. In fact, it was one of the things that brought a smile to her face. You had to take fun where you could get it, particularly when repeating the same information dozens of times a week, year after year.

Minerva McGonagall appeared distinctly surprised for a moment, her eyes forming a question as she glanced to Hermione. Miss Granger gave the smile that Elizabeth had come to know as a humorous one. The girl was smart as a whip, and possessed a sense of humor that rivaled Elizabeth's own. Elizabeth watched, sipping her own tea silently, letting Hermione explain what she had come to know the first day. "Professor Connell wasn't born deaf. It was an accident when she was a teenager, so she can speak, just doesn't very often."

Elizabeth lowered the cup to rest it on her knee as she spoke once more. "My volume control is a bit wonky, Professor McGonagall. In the classroom, Miss Granger acts as my interpreter, given how quickly she picked up on ASL. I do speak privately, when it suits me, to facilitate the comfort of those around me, but not often. When in a group, keeping up with lip-reading can be nothing short of exhausting. It takes concentration, and I can't hear how loud my own voice is, so I end up whispering or almost shouting, neither of which gives the impression that I prefer to give."

The Scottish woman observed her for a moment and when she spoke again, the single word was easily read on her lips. "Remarkable."

Miss Granger saved Elizabeth from further explanation, speaking toward the other woman once more. Elizabeth pushed back in her chair, watching the exchange with no small amount of humor. "Professor Connell told me earlier she's speaking to make a good impression. Apparently Professor Snape is held in quite high esteem in his field, even overseas."

Elizabeth broke in then, praying her voice was soft, gripping her teacup tightly. "Severus Snape is a man who's knowledge in Potions is unrivaled. His published works, his research… it's amazing. Though I do not agree with some of his theories, there is no denying, the man is smart. The mere idea that someone might think I'm suited to take his position is nothing short of flattering, Professor."

She was rewarded with a rueful smile, a shrewd expression that spoke of something more Elizabeth did not know. The older woman's smile morphed into a triumphant smirk. "Severus is certainly smart, in most ways. But I hope that you can contend with his nosiness. Tell me more about this theory, Professor Connell. I find it most intriguing."

Elizabeth relaxed, leaning forward to settle the teacup on the table between them and giving a nod to Hermione before she lifted her hands to launch into explanation. Speaking made her uncomfortable, guarded and wary at best. Her hands were far more adept at expression the details, the beauty of her potions and her passion for it, than were her clumsy words. She knew her voice was flat, she knew her eyes crinkled at the edges when she had to concentrate on reading lips. She knew, a vacant expression descended on her as she tried to work out what was being spoken by lips too thin, or tongue too fast. And so, she reverted to what she knew best, and with it, her confidence rose with each passing moment. She _wanted _ this job and she'd do her damnedest to secure it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – This book follows canon save for Snape's survival. The timeline of events remain intact, however I'm blatantly ignoring the 90s. They were a horrible time. I don't write about them, I prefer not even to remember them. So… hang in there, you'll understand why. Oh, and welcome back, Winkie!

Abduco – Take away

Dictus – words, speech

Snow

* * *

The Sound of Silence

Chapter Two

* * *

Snape stared across the table over Minerva's shoulder, her voice droning on and on would have given Albus a run for his money. "Severus, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" There was a tone of exasperation to her voice. He lifted his eyes to her as he blinked, struggling to recall even a snippet of what she'd said.

When nothing came, he didn't even try to look interested, merely shrugged. She sighed and parted her lips to speak again. "I said, the arrangements should be made as quickly as possible. She'll be arriving by the end of the week and everything should be relatively straightforward. Are you agreeable to the circumstances, Severus?"

Severus frowned, his brow furrowing as he gave a nod. Minerva's eyes took on that shrewd expression that never failed to spell impending disaster. "Excellent. I'll have Argus meet you at the cottage at noon tomorrow. Be ready, and do try to be nice, Severus."

He blinked slowly. "Filch, noon, cottage?" He lowered the teacup he held, placing it quietly on the saucer. "Minerva, you must forgive me, I'm still a bit tired from the preparations for the new term. Perhaps you could repeat that last part?"

The Headmistress merely stared at him as if he were a lost cause, and in some ways, he was. Absolutely. He summoned his nicest smile, that was to say, it wasn't and outright grimace. She sighed and reached for the teapot, pouring herself another cup, as though to fortify herself. "Argus will need help making the cottage livable again, and you will help him."

"Ah, of course." Simple enough.

"And you will ensure that while you are residing there, Professor Connell has everything she needs to ensure her safety and adequate access to the school and the facilities in case an emergency should arise." Minerva appeared particularly pleased with herself for having lulled him into a false sense of security.

Snape shook his head instantly, cursing himself for having allowed that little gem to slip past him. "Reside… there. With… that woman? Have you gone mad?" He didn't raise his voice, he did, however, merely stare at his oldest living friend as if she'd lost her very last marble.

Minerva simply smiled serenely and took a sip of her tea. "I have not. She must live outside the wards of the school to have access to the muggle technology which aids her in daily living. There is nothing unreasonable about it. However, we can't have a young woman, a young single woman at that, living alone in Hogsmeade, it's just not done. You know how the rumors would fly."

He had to have misheard her. This simply didn't make any sense. "I'm sorry, rumors fly if a woman lives alone? But if you put a single man in the same household you think the comings and goings would be so much less notable? You're only trading one scandal for another. And what self-respecting witch needs muggle anything to cope with daily?"

Minerva merely gazed at him, her voice taking on a sharp edge of warning. "Severus, you are above reproach. Your presence will ensure that tongues do not wag. The entire village is as terrified of you as the school. You passed the title of Headmistress to me, and you voluntarily took up the post of my deputy headmaster, you are the one who is responsible for ensuring her safety and her reputation."

Severus narrowed his eyes on her, snapping out the words before he could stop himself. "What makes you think her reputation would be any safer in my hands than Madam Hooch's or Poppy's? Why can't you make bloody Granger live with her?"

"Don't be daft, Hermione will be living inside the castle. Someone has to make up for your absences. Miss Granger has been informed of the arrangement and graciously agreed to take the twice weekly patrols, Professor Connell and yourself will share the other two shifts, as usual."

"Usual? Usual?" He near lost it then, gaping at her openly. "There's nothing usual about any of this. In over a thousand years of existence, Hogwarts has never had need for a staff member to live outside the castle, I don't see why we should start now. Centuries of tradition turned on its ear for the whim of one little girl? Minerva, you've gone barking mad!"

The older woman merely sipped her tea, unfazed by his acidic words. "Hagrid has lived outside the walls for decades now. And there are always extenuating circumstances. I'm sure you will learn to adapt. If, by Christmas, you find yourself unable to stomach it any longer, I'm sure I can convince Filius to watch over her."

Severus sneered, flopping back into the chair he occupied in front of the fire across from the headmistress. "What's he going to do, throw his shoe at stray centaurs who come to close?"

Minerva tsked at him, giving him that indulgent smile that signaled quite clearly that she'd won. "Christmas, Severus. If you feel the same at Christmas, you can always plead your case again then. But the contract is signed and you did take an oath to protect the school and its staff and inhabitants from harm. She can't live inside the wards, and so she will have to live outside them, and I am sure you'll come to see reason that she can't be expected to live without the luxuries the rest of us enjoy simply because it inconveniences you."

Snape reined in the urge to hurl something at her head. "Telly isn't a necessity, Minerva, neither is the radio, nor the telephone, nor electricity. She's magical. She can live without the trappings of her muggle drenched life as well as the rest of us, or she can just stay her bloody arse in Seattle."

He knew when he crossed a line. Mostly because Minerva's temper flared and she wasn't as kind as he remembered. "Severus Snape, the decision is made. You will do this and you will be polite and solicitous and you will learn to deal with it. I've tried to be nice about it, but the decision is final. Any more lip from you and I'll hex you to silence for a month."

Severus stared at her, his lips parting as he shot the words back. "She's a bloody menace and she isn't even here yet!" He knew she wouldn't make good on her threat. Classes started in two weeks, there was no way she'd silence him for a month. At most, she'd feel guilty after a few hours.

Her eyes hardened and in that last second before the flash of blue hurtled toward him from her wand, he had to wonder if maybe he'd cross the line a bit too far this time. "Abduco dictus!" His throat closed up for a moment and he stared at her. He parted his lips to shoot a snide remark her way only to find that no sound issued forth. The meddling old bat! He snapped his mouth closed and she smiled sweetly. "Now, Severus. Meet with Filch tomorrow at noon. Professor Connell will be arriving tomorrow afternoon. Argus will take you to the cottage and your quarters in dungeons will be sealed and warded nice and snug and I will know if you try to tamper with them, so don't. Do you have anything else to say? No? There's a good lad. Off you go."

He stared at her, his eyes glittering harshly as he slammed the teacup onto the low table between them, giving a glare that would reduce a lesser person to tears. As it was, she merely smile magnanimously and took another sip of her own tea as he rose from his seat, marching toward the door. Seventeen years in the service of two old madmen and what did he get for his trouble? Minerva just as formidable a taskmaster as Dumbledore ever had been, even if she were more transparent. Not for the first time, he questioned his decision to remain at Hogwarts. It had been a place of solace during his recovery, and truthfully the only place that had ever felt like home. It'd be perfect if it weren't for the people. And the students. And the ghosts.

He made his way down the stone steps toward the entry to the office, emerging in an irritated sweep of robes. The second he was sure he was alone, he drew his wand and pointed it at his own throat, speaking the words. "Finite Incantatum." Only a huff of air emerged. He tried for a whisper, managing not even a croak. That bothering old biddy had silenced him. How dare she! He rested his wand against his larynx and tried again, eyes closing as he repeated the spell nonverbally and again got nothing. His fingers clenched around the wand in his hand as he actually yielded to the urge to stamp his foot. She'd have to lift it before the term began, that much was for a certainty. How in the hell was a person supposed to do what needed to be done when they were missing such a vital part of their being? Unreasonable, and for pointing out what had only been obvious. Grimly, he loosened his grip and tucked his wand away once more, his eyes narrowing as he headed for the library. There would have to be some kind of answer there.

He rummaged for hours, worked straight through dinner, hauling book after book from the restricted section and piling it on the table. Irma stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, and after a while, he wasn't sure she was wrong. He could hear her muttering beneath her breath, insults that would normally have resulted in an acidic response. Instead he merely retreated to his corner to lick his wounds and continue making notes. Midnight came and went and Pince disappeared from the library. One am came and went and with it, Filch with his mop. By two am, Mrs. Norris had climbed to the third shelf of the section on Mystical Beasts and made herself at home between a volume of Norbert's Norketters and Norbert's Gnomes – A compendium. By three in the morning, he'd destroyed two pots of coffee and obliterated a plate of food brought by a smirking house-elf. And by four am, he was, for the first time in two decades, on the verge of tears of frustration. By the time the sun came up, he was exhausted, silent, and clutching a copy of Wiggen's _Nonverbal Incantations and Hexes _as if it were a lifeline, his head propped on top of a volume that was relatively comfortable, except for the occasional face licking.

When he felt the tap on his shoulder, his head shot straight up. A quarter of noon and he was surrounded by no less than three dozens books and a half a foot thick stacks of parchment. All spells. All potions. None of which would probably work. He hugged the copy of Wiggen's book to his chest, and stared toward Madam Pince as she flicked an impatient finger toward the door. "Headmistress called for you to go… something about Argus. But you do intend to clean up the mess you've made, right?"

Severus leveled a sleep glare at her as he simply rose from his seat, baring his teeth at the woman and turned to march toward the door, the stolen copy of _Nonverbal Incantations and Hexes _tucked into his robes.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- A second chapter for today, I'll go until I run out of steam. Standard update days of Sundays and Wednesdays apply.

In note to the dialogue used where ASL would go in, there is a standard grammar that follows very different structure rules in ASL. Those grammar structures will not apply, for the sake of easier reading and continuity of characterization and flow. Fancy way of saying … Elizabeth's attitudes are more aptly portrayed with traditional English grammar structure, and although informal conversation in ASL in reality often drops smaller words for the sake of speed, as well as relies on a different basic sentence structure depending on context. I'm not going to do that. Additionally, it should be noted that there is BSL, the British Sign Language which would normally be used in that area, it is notably more difficult for users than ASL. And my familiarity is with ASL, the lead character is American, she also uses ASL. BSL is something of a beast.

Snow

* * *

The Sound of Silence

Chapter Three

* * *

Elizabeth furrowed her brow as she gripped the Portkey. Beside her, Hermione Granger wore a grin as she released her grip on the battered converse sneaker that had seen better days. Elizabeth gazed around herself, staring in open wonder. She'd never seen a proper wizarding village before. Nothing like the cozy underground shops beneath Seattle's historic district that marauded as a tourist destination on the surface.

She wore a grin that matched her apprentices, though for an entirely different reason. The village of Hogsmeade was an entirely foreign experience to her, and above it on a hill sat an honest to goodness castle. The Headmistress of the school had mentioned it was a large castle, but Elizabeth hadn't expected it to appear to be the size of a small city. She leaned on the end of her upturned trunk, clutching the sneaker to her chest as she simply stared, awestruck by the suddenly real change she'd made. Hermione tipped her head to the side, her fingers flying in obvious delight. "Beautiful, yes?"

Elizabeth breathed out the words, unable to stop herself. "Absolutely breathtaking. It's like a fairytale." She knew the words were low, a glance toward Hermione leaning a bit closer to hear brought a flush to her face. Elizabeth cleared her throat and straightened, awkwardly clutching the shoe in one hand as she switched to her more comfortable medium. "Where do we go from here?"

Hermione lifted her eyes toward the castle in the distance and Elizabeth grinned, breaking out her wand and propping it on her shoulder, one hand sweeping out to indicate that Hermione should lead the way. The walk was quite pleasant, if the wind was a bit brisk. There was no shortage of views, that was a certainty. Elizabeth found herself entranced each step of the way, the clean, crisp air testament to just how different this place was from the bustle of the city she was so used to, where she'd spent her entire life. Muggle born and raised, she knew there was a difference here, knew what she was up against. The entire wizarding world had been set on its head by the events that had unfolded here, in this very spot, little more than a year before. Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, a rustle of wind capturing her attention as an owl shot past her head.

When they arrived at the gates of the school, McGonagall herself was there to greet them. Elizabeth didn't bother suppressing a grin. The older woman was dressed in dark green robes that brushed the tops of practical, low heeled boots. Her smile was warm as she embraced Hermione and in turn, extended a hand toward Elizabeth. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Connell."

Elizabeth offered her a hesitant smile, once more struck by the enormity of the task she was undertaking. An older man, one who looked sullen and age worn appeared seemingly from nowhere. The Headmistress spun to face him, giving a smile of recognition. His lips were not so easy to read, in fact he barely moved his mouth when he spoke, and Elizabeth felt a bolt of nervousness. Beside her, Hermione began to sign, as though picking up on her discomfort. "This is Mr. Filch, the caretaker. He'll be showing you to the cottage so you can settle in."

She relaxed as she flashed the man her best grin, inclining her head a bit. To her surprise he gave a slight smile, though he jerked his head in the direction of the path that diverged off into the woods. Elizabeth's gaze flicked back to Hermione in question, only to be met with and encouraging nod and the words signed quickly. "Mr. Filch is going to take you to the cottage now, and then you'll walk floo directly to your office in the castle before dinner in the Great Hall tonight."

Understanding dawned, and with it gratitude. Elizabeth aimed her next words toward the Headmistress, ignoring the obvious stared of confusion from the man called Filch. "Thank you. Very much. I'll see you both then."

She trailed after the man, her hands tucked snugly into her pockets. Her trunk was nowhere to be seen, but from what she guessed, that didn't bother the weathered old man who resolutely steered her along the path for nearly twenty minutes before coming to a halt in front of a faded wooden gate that had seen better days. Elizabeth knew that there were two kinds of cottage in the world. There was the 'cottage' like her aunt had, the kind of vacation home that was so large that one could get lost for days without ever laying eyes on another occupant, and then there were cottages as the rest of the world knew them to be. This, was definitely the latter. Cozy was a good word for it. Damn small was another. Charming was the one that leapt to mind first.

As the entered the gate, her eyes sought out the little building, tucked ever so neatly on the back side of a lake, a small stretch of rocky bank on the back end, just barely visible from where they stood. The front garden was a tangle of weeds and bushes, as though hastily trimmed back, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile. The tiny cottage was suitable well within walking distance of the school, though the floo would undoubtedly be working per McGonagall's words. Elizabeth watched her guide for a moment, unable to understand so much as a single word he'd babbled, and even now she merely nodded politely before he left, making her way to the door.

On entry, the word small didn't even begin to describe what she was looking at. Miniscule. Teeny. It was perfect. Elizabeth grinned as she lifted a hand to unhook the travelling cloak she wore, more a bending to formality than any real need for warmth. There was a chill in the air, the temperature was not that different from Seattle. She hung the cloak on the peg by the front door, catching sight of the longer black one beside it. Obviously, she was not alone. She relaxed marginally, glancing around herself before leaning forward to sniff the cloak experimentally. The scent of sandalwood greeted her, along with the faint tinge of smoke lingering on the wool. Elizabeth frowned faintly before her lips curved into a smile. It was the cloak of someone who dealt in Potions, or had recently. She didn't call out, but instead seized the few moments she had alone, making a slow loop around the main floor of the cottage. It was one open room, a large hearth dominating one wall and a miniscule kitchen along the other. A desk sat on the other side of the room, tucked beneath a bookshelf that was filled to capacity. Piles of books littered every available surface and for a moment she wondered if there would be an place for her to work, and prayed her bedroom would have at least a bed large enough to spread out on.

The tiny dining table, only large enough for two, was on one side of the center post that supported the interior of the cottage, a battered brown velvet sofa on the other side. It wasn't fancy, and she'd been warned about that, but it was private. And most importantly, from the light switch that she'd found on her entrance, it had electricity, despite the oil lamps that were scattered around the room.

Elizabeth spun in a slow circle once more, gleaning what she was able to from the clues left to her, attempting to sort out what she was able about the mysterious owner of the yummy smelling cloak. Male. Obvious. No female was that tall without being half-giant and those were mostly legend. She thought. Avid reader. Perhaps that meant he was quiet. Not that it mattered really. Smart. That had been a copy of _Most Potente Potions_ she'd spied on the top of one of the piles on the desk. Neat? Elizabeth cocked her head to the left, then to the right. Absolutely not. Her eyes trailed to the stairs once more and she put her absent roommate from her mind, making her way up the stairs. The tiny landing consisted of only two rooms. One had the door tightly shut and the other stood open. Her head cocked to the side as she found the note attached to the open door and reached for it. The spidery handwriting was as terse as the words.

_The Headmistress has informed me of my duties to see to your comfort and safety. It is in the best interest of both of us to observe the following rules during our time cohabitating._

Elizabeth's lips quirked as she leaned against the door frame. Bossy. The roommate was definitely the bossy kind. Joy. She continued reading, not even bothering to stifle a grin.

_1) Do not disturb me when I am working. Ever. _

_2) Do not wake me when I am sleeping. Ever. _

_3) Do not expect me to share my meals with you on the rare occasion I cook. Ever. _

_4) Do not expect me to clean up after you in either the loo or the kitchen. Ever. _

_5) Do not knock on my bedroom door. Ever. _

_6) The desk downstairs is mine. _

_7) The couch downstairs is mine. _

_8) The books downstairs are mine. _

_9) You may use my kettle without asking, however if you break it, you WILL replace it._

_10) The blue crockery and dishes are mine. Do not touch them. Ever. _

_11) I wake at precisely half-five each morning and retire at precisely half-eleven each evening, unless I have hall monitor shift. Between these hours, do not seek me out. Ever. _

_12) Bi-weekly patrols will be completed in silence when possible. _

_13) I have devised a schedule for the sharing of the lab in the cellar. It will be strictly observed. You may find this attached. _

_14) Do not go into my bedroom. Ever. _

_15) No loud music. Ever. _

_16) No gentlemen callers are to be entertained overnight. Ever. _

_17) In fact you are to have no gentlemen callers. Ever. Except for Flitwick. He's harmless. _

Elizabeth stared at the words her lower lip quirking as she reread the list. Blue… dishes… off limits? Okayyy. It seemed the roommate was a bit high strung. This was getting more daunting by the minute. She glanced back toward the closed door for a moment before lowering her eyes to the page once more.

_I am not certain what muggle technological requirements you have for daily living, but be aware, Madam, that I have my own requirements. Silence being one of them. Observe this rule strictly and we shall have no trouble cohabitating. Welcome to Hogwarts. _

_Regards,_

_S. Snape_

_Deputy Headmaster_

He may as well have tacked a nail over her head with a neon sign listing his disdain for the arrangement. But the sight of the signature explained a great deal. She was, by nature, a curious person, and to know that behind the door beside her lay the man who was known as one of the most brilliant Potioneers of the wizarding world… and that he had such harsh words for someone he'd never met… it was a bit startling. Disappointment filtered in and she stepped through the open door to find her bedroom. It was comfortable enough, a double bed and a small desk beneath the window. The window gave a perfect view of the castle in the distance. And Elizabeth didn't bother to suppress a smile. It would be damn cold once winter came, given there was no fireplace and no other visible sign of a heat source, but it would still do.

Her trunks were stacked neatly against the wall waiting for her, but she put the though aside and pushed her door closed and made a beeline for the desk, taking a seat at the stiff-backed little wooden chair. Severus Snape had welcomed her so warmly to Hogwarts with his list of rules, it was only fair she write a thank you note… after all, a thirty year old woman did not live as a single-something in the wizarding world for long without a backbone and the means to stand her ground. She rummaged in the desk, blessing the thoughtful soul who stocked it with a variety of inks and parchments and quills, and drew out what she'd need and began to write.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- Oh... Severus... Severus... Severus.

Snow

* * *

The Sound of Silence

Chapter Four

* * *

Snape listened to the woman as she bustled around the cottage, though if he were honest, bustled wasn't the right words. She moved almost silently and instead of a knock on his door and instant protests to his list of rules, he had heard only her door close quietly and the scraping of a chair over the floor. He had exhaled and returned his attention back to the lesson plans in his lap. They were not due until the following week, but he was never one to leave something until the last minute. He didn't know how long passed, so engrossed in the task before him he was, but it had to have been more than two hours by the time his stomach rumbled. He crept toward the stairs on bare feet, tugging his door open and peering out, determined to avoid the inevitable meeting as long as he possibly could.

As he slipped out the door, the parchment fluttered. Severus narrowed his eyes and tugged the two pages from where they rested. A quick scan revealed a distinctly feminine handwriting, pleasing in its form, though succinct, for a woman, in the sheer length of it. It was shorter than his own. The second page wasa revision of his schedule he'd set up for the precious lab in the cellar. He saw red, quite literally, in the form of red slashes over the time slots. He was fairly shaking with irritation as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, flipping back to the first page. He clutched the missive with one hand as he filled the kettle distractedly with the other, reading swiftly, his eyes narrowing with every line.

_Professor Snape, _

_Thank you for the warm welcome to Hogwarts. I only wish everyone could be as forthright and thorough as you in their preparation of how one's time outside the classroom should be spent. I have taken the liberty of revising your proposed schedule for the sharing of the cellar and look forward, with great enthusiasm, to the use of your apparently very special kettle. In the interest of common understanding and in the spirit of cooperation which you have so graciously established, I would ask that you observe the following rules in addition to your own._

The NERVE! The words were thinly veiled sarcasm, and yet if he presented the letter to McGonagall as support that the chit should be dismissed, it wouldn't fly. Clever. Very clever. He narrowed his eyes as he poured his tea and read on.

_1) The tampons in the cabinet above the toilet in the bathroom are mine. If you use the last, please replace promptly. Regular absorbency is fine, though overnight protection cannot be disregarded as an adequate substitute. _

Severus gaped at the page, his eyes lifting for a moment toward the ceiling, where he knew she sat, basking in her victory. He snatched up the kettle as it began to whistle and sneered as he turned his eyes back to the page. Cheeky little witch.

_2) I absolutely agree that having men overnight is inappropriate. However, I would suggest that if you wish to sneak them in, you should direct your callers to the trellis on your side of the house. It would be quite awkward to have your gentlemen friends end up in the wrong room, especially as I am forbidden from having men in the house at all. Ever. _

He choked then. It had been a perfectly reasonable rule and how DARE she respond with aspersions on his sexuality. He spooned a bit of sugar into his tea and were he any other man, any other red-blooded English male, he would have immediately reported her to their Headmistress. He shook his head and tossed his spoon into the sink, lifting the cup and padding barefoot back toward the stairs as he continued to read.

_3) When I cook, you are welcome to join me for my meal, provided you pay up front. In the spirit of the cooperation, I am taking the liberty of providing you with the following equation, which you will find most useful in determining my costs of labor, time, and ingredients, as well as the recommended allotment for the extra effort. _

_ %P=p/iB + 3.78(x)_

Okay, maybe he had gone a little overboard with the references to his crockery and his food. He stepped back into his bedroom, his ears reddening as he kicked the door closed with a resounding thunk and gave a snort.

_4)Do not use my electricity. Ever. _

_5) Do not touch my light switch on the inside of my bedroom wall. Ever. _

_6) The fireplace downstairs is mine. You may use its warmth when the weather turns chilly however, provided that you replace the firewood you use, stacking it in segments of no less than three logs, facing left to right, parallel to the hearth._

_7) The back door is mine, however you may, with advance permission, use it on a bi-weekly basis. _

_8) You are permitted to use the laundry facilities in the cellar on alternating Fridays from five until seven pm, provided you give advance notice in triplicate filed with the Headmistress no less than one week in advance. _

Severus cocked his head to the side. Had he really sounded that bad? He lifted his gaze to stare at the wall that separated the two rooms, the fire crackling in the hearth quietly. Guilt niggled at him for a moment, but was immediately dismissed after her read the last bit of her introductory letter.

_Deputy Headmaster Snape will please note the gratitude of Professor Connell in regards to his eagerness to fulfill his duties as guide and protector. I do look forward to meeting you in person, Professor, and feel it my solemn duty to inform you that I shall wear red to this evening's staff dinner. Unless there was some color recommendation that you wished to make to better facilitate our living arrangement? _

_ Best, _

_ E. Connell. _

_P.S.- The coat peg by the front door on the left is mine. The Deputy Headmaster will kindly ensure that his boots remain beneath the coat peg on the right in the interest of maintaining a tidy and orderly living environment._

Briefly he toyed with answering. A glance to the clock on the mantle informed him that there was only an hour until the inevitably awkward dinner hour in the Great Hall. He tossed the note onto the bed tucked beneath the eaves and moved to the wardrobe to search out the things he'd need for his shower. Perhaps he'd leave her some hot water, just this once, in the interest of a harmonious cohabitation. Or maybe he'd just lock the door to the loo and leave it that way to punish the chit for her cheek.

An hour later found him standing beside the floo, debating whether or not to wait for her. She had shown no sign of even existing save for the note on his door, no sound coming from the room across the tiny landing in the cottage he was condemned to reside in for the next four months. E. Connell was either a ghost or a loner. The idea that she might crave quiet as much as he did almost turned his sour attitude to the better thought that perhaps he had not given her enough of a chance.

However, as the clock struck six, and he reached for the floo powder, the sound of light footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. He frowned faintly, catching a glimpse of not just red, but scarlet wool pooling around dainty black boots with a low heel. When she emerged from the stairs, he found himself staring into a face he'd not expected. She was small, a delicacy about her bearing, though she stumbled on the last step dashing any notion of grace. E. Connell was, even he was forced to admit, ravishing, at first glance.

Blonde hair was caught back from her face, in a severe bun, low on the back of her head, not a strand out of place. Black rimmed glasses were perched on the end of a pert nose, framing a pair of gray eyes. The teaching robes she wore were practical, though flattering, modestly high-necked, but hinting at a figure that would have the male members of staff salivating at first glance. She was covered neck to thumb to ankle. And what's more, she was staring at him as surely as he was staring at her, with such boldness that he found his ears reddening. Perfectly pink lips twisted into an icily polite smile as she gave him a nod. So this was the cheeky little thing that had left him the snarky reply in response to his overtures of how to live peacefully together.

He gripped the fistful of floo powder and stared toward the fireplace, struck at the last moment with the belated realization that he was dependent on her for this. Floo travel required verbal casting. He sighed and gave her a polite nod, gesturing toward the fireplace to indicate she should precede him. She cocked her head to the side lightly as she observed him, her polite smile fading. Something lingered in those gray eyes that turned stormy. She held herself ramrod straight as she turned on heel and strode toward the door, never speaking a word as she pulled it open and disappeared evening. The sun would not set for a good two hours, and yet she seemed offended by his attempt at politeness. He dropped the floo powder into the stone bowl on the mantle and set off after her, his frown deepening. So it would appear, they were going to be late to dinner given that it was a twenty minute walk.

Severus would have growled if he'd been able to. As it was, he hurried to catch up. She acted as if he were not there when he settled in beside her, striding along purposefully. She hadn't yet started ranting or chattering as he'd expected, though he knew she was perfectly aware he was right there beside her. He fought back the urge to make a snide remark about her attention-seeking garb, would have if he'd been able to. As it was, he was already humiliated enough, having to remain silent until Minerva's ire wore off enough to lift the hex.

The woman moved with surprising speed for one so small, she barely reached the top of his shoulder, and he half expected her not to meet his stride. In the end, as they approached the Great Hall, he was the one who found it difficult to keep up. He sneered down toward her as she brushed past him toward the round table set up in the center of the room. So it was the silent treatment, was it? Two could play at that game. If it was war she wanted over their silly exchange of notes, war he would give her.

She seemed unaware of his declaration of combat as she settled into one of the two seats left, her face lifting toward Minerva's to give a smile of greeting, the change in expression signaling a shift in her demeanor. Still, she spoke not a word, but rather situated herself quietly. Beside her, Granger murmured the words softly, though not aimed at him, it was hard to miss. "Has he been polite, at least?"

Connell, for her part, had the good grace to appear to give it consideration. She lowered a hand to her right side, where Granger could see, but out of his line of sight, her fingers moving in some demonstration of emphasis for her grimace. Granger broke into a fit of snickers. "He didn't!" Hermione leaned forward to stare at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You didn't! Professor! That's horrible!"

Snape frowned, having the distinct impression he'd missed something important. He was saved from explanation however, thank whatever gods still took pity on him in his hexed state, by the arrival of the food. It wasn't yet close enough to the start of term for Minerva to give her usual round of speeches. The first staff meeting wasn't slated until next week and Severus for one relished the chance to tuck into his food undisturbed. It was common knowledge that he hated the policy of communal dinners, something that Minerva had begun enforcing the last year in the interest of 'staff unity' as she'd called it.

The woman beside him ate as quietly as he did, leaning only to share the occasional exchange with Granger, done too quietly for him to hear. Hermione seemed completely at ease with the woman, animated and enjoying the conversation. Across the table, Longbottom was watching Connell as though she were an angel that had fallen from heaven and plunked into the chair across from him for his viewing pleasure, his ears lit red. Poppy and Flitwick were engaged in some discourse about something or other and to his left, Minerva finally caved. "Severus, how are you finding the arrangement?"

A smile curved up the corners of her lips, triumph gleaming in her eyes. He must not weaken. It was war and Minerva was every bit as bad as Voldemort. He pinned her with his hardest glare and she lifted her wand, flicking it at him as though it were nothing. "Finite incantatum."

His throat loosened and he reached for his goblet of water, giving her a dirty look. "Don't ever do that to me again, Minerva." His voice was rusty from disuse over the past 24 hours, however Minerva didn't even seem fazed.

She simply smiled sweetly. "Have you and Professor Connell settled in nicely then?"

"Oh, it's lovely, Minerva. I can hardly wait to find out what gems of wisdom I will hear over my morning tea." He snorted. "How the bloody hell should I know? The woman isn't even acknowledging my existence. Not a single word on the walk here. I offered her to use the floo first and she flat out walked away." That was it, build it up nice and slow.

"Severus, you couldn't have used the floo anyway. You had to walk." She had the audacity to give him another motherly smile. "I'm sure you'll find her good company, quiet, respectful, and quite brilliant for a witch of her age."

"I hardly have the need to converse with a child." He snorted as he cut into his steak. The woman beside him stiffened, her gray eyes landing on his face. Granger had grown strangely quiet beside her. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that hurt was warring with indignation in Connell's pretty eyes. Severus saw no point in lying about his thoughts, if it would expedite her knowing her place. "She isn't even licensed by Ministry here yet, and until those credentials do transfer, I see no reason to change my opinion. She will have to prove herself like everyone else, and thus far, it isn't looking very good."

Beside him, she lowered her eyes to her plate, her fork and knife lowering to rest beside what was left of the pasta she'd been working on. He saw it, a flash of righteous anger. That was is, if only she would rise to the bait.

Her hands lowered to her lap and he pegged her with a stare. "Are you almost finished ignoring me, Miss Connell?"

She showed no response, Granger's hand lowering to disappear beneath the table once more. Connell's eyes remained locked on Hermione's face. Severus pressed onward, ignoring the warning hiss of his name from Minerva. "I do not like to be ignored, Miss Connell. This is your last warning."

Her spine stiffened once more, much as it had in the house when he'd tried to get her through the floo first. Her jaw tightened and she gave a friendly smile as she glanced to him directly. Granger's voice lifted softly, hesitantly. "Professor Snape, she's.."

"I think the lady can speak for herself, Miss Granger, if she intends to be able to teach the little ingrates in her class anything. Unless she's stone stupid and simply wishes to indulge in the little game of letters she started this afternoon. Her tongue is quite sharp, this I already know."

"Professor, you don't understand, she's…" He lifted a hand, giving Granger his hardest stare as his temper finally failed.

"Rude. Arrogant. And quite possibly too stupid to be set loose in a lab with potions that could explode and kill everyone in the castle." Okay, so he was exaggerating there, but the irritation of being ignored was simply rising beyond his usual. Never had he been so vexed by a woman who'd never spoken so much as a word.

The chit stared at her plate, her hands tightened into fists. An instant later, her head rose, her eyes resting on his face, her gaze thunderous. The rest of the table was still chattering pleasantly among themselves, as though unaware of the tension. Granger had fallen silent, casting worried glances toward the newest arrival. Severus smirked, his voice icy as he injected his most withering tone. "Well which is it, Professor Connell? Ignoring me, deaf, or just stone stupid?"

A horrified gasp emitted from Poppy across the table. "Severus! How could you?"

Longbottom paled, glancing toward the door as if longing to make some kind of hasty retreat. Granger shook her head slowly, hissing the words at him with her typically Gryffindor bravery, or in this case, stupidity. "I always knew you were an ass, Professor, but that was low, even for you."

The woman beside him was eerily calm as she rose from her place, carefully placing her napkin on the table beside her plate and giving Minerva a terse nod. She didn't respond to his words, but rather turned on heel and made her way toward the door with a surprising amount of dignity for a woman who'd just endured his tongue lashing. A grudging admiration rose in him even as Minerva rose from her seat. "Severus Snape, you are the most callous excuse for a man. Twenty points from Slytherin for being a …a… dunderhead." She too slapped her napkin down and strode away without so much as a backward glance, shaking with rage.

What had he said that was so horrible? And could she even *take* points? He glanced toward Granger, who merely stared at him, shaking her head. "Did you even read the staff summaries for this year, Professor?"

He frowned faintly, the inkling that he'd somehow gotten something very wrong descending on him as his gaze flicked over the rest of the staff around the table. He spoke cautiously. "No. I never read those."

"Perhaps, you should, Professor. And while you're at it… maybe read a volume of Emily Post while you're at it." Granger rose as well, retreating from the table. Severus glanced back toward the remaining staff, seeing no explanation but rather only a sudden intent interest in the food or whatever conversations had been left off. He pushed his chair back slowly, in no hurry to make his way back to the cottage. The twenty minute walk took nearly an hour and the sun was just setting when he arrived. There was no sign of the woman as he shrugged off his cloak and made his way slowly up the stairs.

Granger's words rang in his ears as he tried to put the pieces together. Belatedly, he dug through the pile of papers on his desk, coming up with the guide that listed the staff, their credentials and the stray anecdotes. He flipped through it idly. As he came to her name, a picture of the pretty little witch grinned at him happily, and her name leapt off the page. "Elizabeth Connell, muggleborn American, licensed in Potions by the Committee of Magic, Ranks – Mastery of Potions, Mastery of Charms, Mastery of Defensive Magic Instruction." He saw nothing untoward until the last sentence. He blinked, stared at the window toward the lake for a moment to get his bearings. Surely he couldn't have missed that. HOW could he have missed that? His eyes found the sentence once more. "Special dispensation for assistant granted on basis of verified disability, Ministry of Magic."

He dropped onto the bed, clutching the book in his hands, the wheels turning all too slowly. Assistant. Verified disability. His own callous words rang in his ears as he replayed the horrified gasps. "Well which is it, Professor Connell? Ignoring me, deaf, or just stone stupid?"

He cursed fluidly and snapped the booklet closed. "Bloody hell. The witch is deaf and I'm… a complete arse."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N- The muse keeps throwing things at me. It's a good night. I'm strongly considering a Snape/Hermione post-war fic at this point. Any thoughts on that, I'd love to hear it. Not a conventional love story by any means, one of my kinky quirks for sure.

Many apologies for how long this took. To clarify, I'm a late-in-life college student, and pursuing my degree in half the time as normal, in 5 months I've completed a year's worth of classes, two clep tests in the past week. So please be just a little gentle with me. I'm usually very prompt with my updating!

Snow

* * *

Elizabeth settled her out robe on the hook beside the door, the telltale black cloak on the right clearly betraying that he was there. Her heart sank as she glanced toward the stairs. Her eyes narrowed on the closed doors at the top of the landing. There was no sign of his presence save for the cloak that hung there, subtly mocking her. Resolutely, she made her way toward the kitchen, reaching for the gleaming copper kettle set on the stove and filling it with water. It was colder now the sun was set, and her walk had done much to acquaint her with the school grounds, but additionally give her the benefit of walking off her temper, or most of it. Who did he think he was? Callous. Insensitive. Ass.

She flicked a finger to ignite the burner on the stove and she plunked the filled kettle down with more force than was necessary. Maybe he hadn't known. Was it possible? She'd spoken to no one in the two hours since she'd fled from the Great Hall. Hermione knew her well enough to give her the space she needed when she was agitated. McGonagall had apparently reacted badly as well, if the look on the older witch's face were anything to go by. Elizabeth exhaled heavily as she opened the cabinet beside the miniscule stove and drew down a serviceable pink teacup. Her eyes fell to the sturdy blue earthenware mugs on the first shelf.

_Benefit of the doubt, Connell. He may not have known. _She sighed, the residual anger draining from her as she reached for the blue mug, not truly giving a damn if she violated one of his rules. He'd lost the right to have those rules respected the instant he'd disrespected her on such a personal level. She glanced toward the kettle, only a few curls of steam emerging, not yet at a full boil, but heating nicely. She hunted down a tray, finding a serviceable, if rather plain copper tray, intended to match the kettle no doubt. What the hell possessed her, she had no idea. She tossed one of her earl grey tea bags into the blue cup. The bastard was lucky he was getting any of her tea at all. If he wanted to complain because she'd used his cups, she'd hex his balls off, no matter how intriguing he was. Or how compelling his lips were when he spoke, the sensuous twine of his tongue as it had appeared curling around the sounds, betraying the drawl that had taken her some time to sort out. And certainly she did not find snark attractive, even if severe expression he wore reminded her of a thundercloud, ripe and laden with rain. Absolutely. He was absolutely not attractive in the least. Nope. Not even a little.

Five minutes later, she mounted the stairs, her wand clutched awkwardly in her hand as she knelt to place the tray outside his door. She knocked hard, hoping it would get his attention, filching her own cup and making sure the note she'd tucked onto the tray was propped perfectly. A handful of chocolate chip cookies were on one of his smaller plates, and the milk and sugar bowls aligned in her usually precise way. She felt the first footsteps toward the door through the floor and darted into her own room just as it began to open, telling herself the entire time that she was offering him an olive branch, nothing more. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that no man should have to face such humiliation in front of his employees, even if he was a total moron.

* * *

Severus had been expecting the knock, expecting some kind of rant, some kind of poke, and he knew full well he deserved no less. When the knock came, he steeled himself for the inevitable, though to his surprise, the door across the landing closed softly just as he pulled his own open. He frowned faintly for a moment before he glanced down.

To his astonishment, a tray greeted his eyes. He furrowed his brow for a moment as he crouched, reaching for the note propped against his favorite blue mug, a mug that had been thoughtfully covered with a cloth napkin to keep the heat in. Suspicion reared its head for a moment before he flipped the simply folded piece of parchment open and read the words written there.

_Next time, I won't be so forgiving. _

It was a simple missive, clear and concise and oddly touching, given how undeserved the gesture was. He glanced back to the tray, lifting it with one last long glance toward her door, though it remained firmly closed, and retreated back into his own room, the peace offering in hand.

* * *

Elizabeth tried to ignore the thud that vibrated through the floor as his door closed once more, resisting the urge to go to her hands and knees to peer beneath the bottom of her own. _Foolish. _She chided herself as she moved to the wardrobe that was crammed beside the narrow window. The room was small, but it would do, and already was beginning to feel a bit more like home. She drew out her fluffy pink bathrobe, tattered and worn after too many years of too much love, and a pair of brightly purple pajamas. She rolled them securely into a ball and tossed them on the bed as she lowered into her chair to work on her tea. It was going to be a long school year. And she hated the idea of spending it in the presence of someone so dour, only dimly wondering what she could do to change it. She flicked her finger toward the bedside table, idly levitating the basket containing her shower supplies, giving it a twirl and watching it land squarely on the bed beside her clothes.

She knew precious little about Severus Snape beyond what had made the papers in the States after the war here had been done with. He'd almost died. He was marked by darkness. And he was brilliant at what he did. However, beyond that and what little she'd learned tonight, she had absolutely no idea what to expect. And oddly, for once in her life, she wasn't keen to learn what might lay ahead with Tall, Dark, and Deadly.

She curled her legs beneath her, staring toward the window, the view through her little four panes of glass over the lake was lovely, though it was too dark to see much aside from the castle lit up in the distance. Maybe he was just reclusive and didn't know how to interact. It happened a lot. People would be fine until they saw her implant perched just behind her ear, attached to her head like an alien device, then understanding would dawn and discomfort would set in. That must be it.

Elizabeth deposited the mug onto the bedside table beside her alarm clock and gathered her clothes and shower basket from where it sat on the bed, moving toward the stairs. The bathroom was attached at the back of the cottage, accessible only through the miniscule enclosed porch. A hot bath would be divine, but her earlier inspection had revealed only a utilitarian and rather sadly simply shower. But then again, beggars couldn't be choosers and right now warmth was all that mattered. Her entire body was tense, rigid and exhausted from an emotionally draining day. She sighed heavily, moving her tired bones toward the door once more.

* * *

Morning was his favorite time of day. The pre-dawn hours of quiet had always brought him much needed solitude and today was no different. The witch across the hall had made no noise since she'd shut herself in her room after a shower that had taken far too long. He'd timed her. Forty-three minutes. How clean did one have to be. Ten minutes was his max, and that was if he deigned to shave. This morning, he did not. And thus it was only seven minutes. Severus emerged from the shower at half past five. The house was still silent, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the from room the only sign that the dawn which was steadily creeping in would soon overtake the world.

He frowned faintly, making his way toward the stairs on bare feet, towel slung around his neck. His hair was, for once, slicked back from his face and still damp from his shower. Only a pair of loose trousers hung loose around his hips. It was his custom and a change of address was not about the change that. The witch's door was still firmly shut. Severus paused at the landing, his hand resting on the knob of his own door. He owed her a proper apology. The peace offering the night before had only inspired more guilt. It was distinctly unSlytherin of him to allow the scales to be tipped so far in her favor. Grudgingly, he had to admit that her graciousness was what unnerved him. A pissed off witch, he knew how to handle those. But a witch who'd met an insult with … tea… that was altogether unsettling.

Obsidian eyes rested on the door to her room and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand to knock, only to realize belatedly that she wouldn't hear him. He paused for a moment, lips curling into a sneer of confusion. How did one gently awaken a deaf woman from a sound sleep to offer to cook her breakfast? His fingers slipped to the doorknob, giving an experimental twist and to his surprise, it opened smoothly.

The room was empty. No sign of his housemate anywhere to be found. He glanced behind himself, listening for a moment for any signs of life, sneer melting into a frown. Had she gone out and not come back? Had she gotten lost? What if she'd wandered into the forest and gotten hurt? Merlin, he'd lost the witch on the first day. Minerva would kill him. His eyes fell to the narrow bed. A pair of pale pink flannel pajamas were tossed carelessly beside the pillow, which still bore the indentation of her head, however faintly. Snape relaxed marginally. Homicide ala Minerva was fended off, he'd not lost the witch.

He remained in the doorway for a moment, his innate curiosity taking hold as he let his gaze flick over the room. It was distinctly unremarkable, though a myriad of gadgets he only vaguely recognized seemed to have taken over what was previously a barren space. He cocked his head to the side, eyes landing on the cord that disappeared beneath the pillow. Severus glanced toward the door once more, moving resolutely, compelled by some unknown force. Yanking the pillow away, he saw only a simply white pod with blunted edges. He reached for it, studying it for a moment. He lifted it, surprised by its weight. His fingers traced over the edges, and found nothing amiss. A muggle contraption, clearly. But what did it do?

He let his fingers trace along the electrical cord that dangled, following it to its source. His frown turned to an expression of interest as he realized it was connected to the alarm clock. He hadn't heard an alarm go off. He held it in his palm, cradling it curiously. Perhaps Minerva had been right when she'd said that some muggle devices were necessary, and in that moment, he felt like even more of an asshole than he had before. He glanced over toward the desk beneath the single window that now held an open laptop with a camera attached to it. A mobile phone rested on a cradle beside that, along with a half-dozen other electronic devices of varying sizes he couldn't begin to identify.

Severus, for the first time in his adult life, found himself at a loss. The muggle world was a place he retreated to in the summer, when there was nothing better to do. He actually had a mobile phone, or had at one time, for an entire week, before he's smashed it to pieces after Draco's obsession with text messaging had resulted in one fit too many. The sound of footsteps on the stairs didn't register as he pondered just why a deaf woman would have a stereo complete with sub-woofer.

It was not until she stepped into his line of sight that he realized he was caught red-handed. She was dressed as modestly as she'd been the night before, though considerably more casually, a pair of grey yoga pants and a shapeless t-shirt that hid whatever curves she might possess. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her face was flushed, though whether from exertion or from anger, he didn't know.

Severus stared at her awkwardly for a moment, trying to think of something, anything to say. She lifted a hand, her forefinger extending, beckoning him to wait. He did, mostly for lack of anything else to do short of making himself even more guilty by bolting from the room. His grip on the white pod tightened for a moment before it vibrated in his hand. "What the bloody hell?" He dropped it as though burned, watching as it began to dance across the duvet. A soft laugh caught his attention as she stepped around him, close enough for him to smell her. She smelled of sweat and lavender, a curious combination. Snape's face reddened as she reached past him and hit the button on the alarm clock with a resounding smack. Aha! So that's what that did. His eyes widened as he reached for the machine once more, curiosity overcoming his mortification. "Ingenious." He murmured the word appreciatively as he turned it over.

"Sorry, I forgot to turn it off." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and though it contained a lilt of a southern accent he couldn't place, it was a lovely voice and distinctly unexpected.

Snape's head shot up, his eyes locking in on her. "You can speak." He said this needlessly and was answered with a wry grin.

"Unless you act like an ass again and give me a reason to give you the silent treatment… it might make it easier." Her voice strengthen, as her fingers adjusted a small device perched on her skull. "Don't get used to it. I prefer signing, but since Hermione has the morning off, we'll have to do this the old fashioned way. You have about an hour before I have a raging headache and rip this thing off my head."

"Thing?" Curiosity once more took over and caution was flung away as he lifted a hand, ever a tactile person, his fingers probing at the flesh colored plastic that dangled precariously on the side of her skull. "What is it?"

Her hand rose, slapping lightly at his in warning. "No fondling the implant on the first date." Her voice sharpened, though oddly, her volume lowered.

For a moment he merely cocked his head to the side before flushing and drawing his hand back. "I'm sorry." Connell stared at him, brow furrowed. "For last night, what I said. It was … thoughtless of me." He clarified quietly, eyes lowering, feeling for all the world like an abashed lad who'd gotten caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

"Ah, yes. That. Well… you're right. It was thoughtless. But then I didn't exactly make the best first impression either. I should have.. spoken. Sometimes I forget. Deaf pride movement and all that jazz." Her flippant words were punctuated by a finger flicking toward the device. "It's a cochlear implant. A good theory, but one that doesn't work so well in practice. Like most things… magic and electrical current don't mix well, so I don't wear it often."

He stared at her for a moment longer, acutely aware that he was searching for something more profound to say than 'oh'. It was, as though for the first time, he had to use his best words. Were words truly a commodity or was it simply his awkwardness. Shame filtered in and he drew himself up to his full height, injecting an imperious note into his tone, a note that he didn't even realize she wouldn't hear. "I'm going to cook breakfast in twenty minutes. Join me." With that, he inclined his head to her and strode from her room, fled really, but in carefully measured steps so it would not be obvious.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N- This story is a bit more light-hearted that what you might expect after reading G&S. I wanted to take a different approach. Thanks to everyone who's been so patient. I'm thinking we might get a couple of chapters up today to make up for the appalling lack of posting on time so far. Buckle in and enjoy! And thanks to everyone for hanging in there so far.

Thanks to all my reviewers!

mkwiant- your suggestion has been percolating! Look for it soon!

Snow

* * *

The Sound of Silence

Chapter Six

* * *

Elizabeth poked at the eggs on her plate. Snape had slipped on a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. To her surprise he was a capable cook. Contrary to what most thought, cooking had relatively little to do with potions, aside from following a recipe, and she herself was abysmal in the kitchen. She'd showered quickly and changed into something more presentable, finding her seat across from him precisely 19 minutes later. He had merely offered her a smirk and placed a plate of eggs and toast with crispy bacon in front of her before taking his own seat.

Her eyes rested for a moment on his lips, the garbled noise that passed for sound through her implant confirming what she'd suspected when she first met the man. Severus Snape had a baritone voice. She wondered idly what it sounded like. The cochlear implant made speech discernible, but the resulting migraine was often not worth the tradeoff. And to boot, the garbled mess quite often bore only the faintest resemblance to true sound, much as it did now. His lips and tongue caressed the words he spoke, and now, she at least had a vague idea what he might truly sound like. She missed sound. She missed moans and sighs, and little pleasures that others took for granted. But more than anything, she missed music. Elizabeth blinked rapidly, her eyes coming to light on his lips for a moment longer before she registered that he was speaking.

"How does your magic work with the electronics?" Lord, but those lips were positively sinful. Wicked thoughts flitted over the forefront of her brain and she forced herself to smile nonchalantly.

Her hands rose on instinct to begin to sign only to shake her head and drop to grasp her fork once more. "The creation of a magical dead zone, so to speak." She didn't know whether his wince was from her volume, or from her words. Instinctively, her fingers flew to her throat, resting there for a moment under the guise of toying with the diamond pendant that had been her mother's long ago. Her thumb rested against her larynx for a moment and she relaxed. Nope. Not talking too loud. "In effect, it's a sort of reverse shielding spell. Instead of keeping my magic in, it keeps the magic out. At the most basic level, I established wards on the equipment, to control the flow of the electricity. The downside is that I can't use magic to manipulate anything that's plugged in or powered by batteries."

His brows rose, knitting together as he broke a piece of bacon in half and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. When he swallowed he spoke once more. "How is it that you've gone all this time and no one knew?"

"Knew?" Elizabeth laughed, her fingers wrapping around the handle of the mug, noticing for the first time he'd deigned to give her one of his esteemed blue stoneware mugs. "It's not a secret. But mostly, the wizarding community is astonishingly similar. I'm a muggle-born witch with a condition that is the result of a freak accident that happened in the muggle world. I'm an aberration. While blood status doesn't count for as much, there are those who think that anything muggle is tainted. I'm tainted." She spoke the words lightly, and his expression shifted, hardening marginally.

His black eyes glinted as he said something she couldn't make out, speaking through gritted teeth as he stared at her. Elizabeth sat awkwardly for a moment before she frowned toward him. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but … gritting your teeth makes it very hard to read your lips."

Surprise filtered in for a moment and he nodded grimly, repeating himself, or so she assumed, the buzz of his voice was the same garble in her skull. "I said that none are more tainted than those who believe themselves pure."

It was her turn to stare at him in surprise. She lowered her eyes to her plate, effectively shutting out the obsidian eyes that glittered, the intensity that crept in. This man, who was so standoffish, was not what she'd expected. In fact he surprised her at every turn. Elizabeth took another sip of tea, her decision made. She lowered the cup and pushed her chair back, heart pounding in her chest. "I'll be right back."

He stared as caught off guard, watching her as she made her way toward the stairs.

* * *

Severus couldn't figure out what he'd said wrong. She had responded as if burned by his words and promptly fled toward the stairs. It was no wonder he couldn't keep a witch if every date he'd ever had ended the same way, with a woman fleeing from his sharp words. He glared at her empty seat, still holding his fork stupidly. Not that this was a date, it was only breakfast, a peace offering to tip the scales back to his favor, where they belonged. But still, what had been so wrong about what he'd said?

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs jerked him from his reverie. Her face held a trace of nervousness as she extended something toward him, two somethings he saw on closer examination. Slowly he lowered his fork to his plate and wiped his hands on the cloth napkin, letting it fall to his lap as he accepted the items. On top was a book, a dictionary… with pictures. He shot her a questioning glance as he rested it on the table and flipped it open, finding, to his surprise, a well-thumbed sign language dictionary. Was it an overture?

He frowned faintly, curiosity bare in his eyes as he lifted his gaze to her. Her face was red as she tapped the book. "There may be some notations on the margins… it's the one I loaned Hermione. It's not the best for the more advanced structure of grammar, but the basic signs are there." Awareness ripped through him and as he stared at her, he realized for the first time that a woman, a witch, was displaying …. Interest… in him. He closed the cover of the book and nodded stiffly, unsure of how to proceed. He set the book aside and regarded the leather covered, slender volume beneath it. Belatedly, he realized it was something electronic. He carefully flipped the cover open to find himself face to face with a flat screen, rather like one of the abominable phones that Draco had foist on him two years before.

She leaned over his shoulder, one arm snaking around him to touch the button on the bottom on the screen. His body's reaction was instant, and violent. Her scent was clean, lavender and soap. Strands of blond tickled his cheek and his cock decided at that moment that it liked the soft contact, roaring to life and Severus had no choice but to be grateful for the positioning of the device in his lap. He stiffened, but the woman hovering beside him didn't seem to notice as she spoke softly. "This is my backup iPad. I don't use it much, but it's loaded with the same apps that I have on my main one. "Her fingers slid over the screen, sending the icons off to the side before tapping one in particular. "This is a database of signs, all on video. There's also a messaging program that will send it to mine." She trailed off into silence, as though realizing she'd given something away.

In that moment, something feral edged in. He tipped his head, staring at her in silence. She stared right back unflinching. The need to mark her, to take her, gripped him, holding him fast in claws of iron. Unbidden, his fingers sought out the screen, seeking the button on the top that would make the screen go dark, intoning the words softly. "Thank you."

She didn't retreat and Severus didn't tear his eyes from her. His hands gripped the tablet, to stop himself from giving in to the desire to send breakfast flying off the table and the witch flying onto it. Everything within him screamed for him to take her. Ridiculous. It was the most ludicrous urge he'd ever had. In the next moment, the spell was broken as she cleared her throat, her face reddening, but in that second before she looked away, he caught the telltale questioning of in her eyes, a curious resignation. He blurted the words without thought. "Have dinner with me tonight."

Her eyes flicked to his lips as she took her seat once more, a frown marring her features. He cursed inwardly and shifted in his chair, grateful that his body's rebellious response to her was no longer under threat of exposure. He repeated himself a bit more slowly, unsure of how one proceeded. "Have dinner with me tonight."

Her gaze fell to the table for a moment, adorably confused. It was as if the woman had no concept that he was responding positively to her overture. Her brow drew up, and he reached for the book, stacking it neatly atop the iParchment, or whatever the hell it was called. He held them in his lap, one hand resting atop them as he studied the woman he'd had such an unexpected reaction to. Her eyes rested on her plate once more and he knew in that moment, her silence was as much an excuse as his acerbic manner was. It wasn't who she was, it was who she pretended to be. Severus's expression softened despite himself and he rapped a finger on the table. It produced a sharp noise, but also a distinct vibration, one that gave the desired result. Her head rose, cheeks tinged pink as he rose from the table. "I cooked, so you can do the dishes. Be ready at six this evening. I'll floo Minerva and tell her not to expect us."

With that he inclined his head to her and left her there, staring after him as though he were some alien creature. His step was lighter and an inexplicable smugness spread through him. Severus Snape had a date. A real date. With a real witch. And a pretty one at that.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N – I'm so thrilled with all the positive feedback I've gotten in the past couple of weeks, and the patience of my readers is most appreciated while I have been slower than usual posting. I'm in the midst of my final push for this semester. Enjoy this chapter! It's when the true humor starts to kick in.

For those who think the events in this chapter are unrealistic, I direct you to youtube. Look up a singer by the name of Mandy Harvey. She's an absolutely brilliant young woman with a voice that will leave you with chills. She's also completely deaf. Living proof that anything is possible, and this story, if anything, is themed about hope.

The quotes at the beginning of the chapters are from the Chronicles of Gor by John Norman. If you have never read this series of books, I highly recommend skipping them. Seriously. They are the worst books ever written. But I do love some of the quotes.

Also, there is a plan in the works now for a Snape/Hermione fic, because I'm a glutton for punishment.

Enjoy,  
Snow

* * *

Strong men simply need women. This will never be understood by weak men. A strong man needs a woman at his feet, who is truly his. Anything else is less than his fulfillment. When a man has once eaten of the meat of gods he will never again chew on the straw of fools. - Explorers of Gor page 12

Every man wants to own his woman, completely. He wants to have her in his absolute power. He wants to have absolute control over her, in every respect, however minute. - Tribesmen of Gor, page 317

"Masculinity and femininity are complementary properties," I told her. "If a man wishes a woman to be more feminine, he must be more masculine. If a woman wishes a man to be more masculine, she must be more feminine." – Explorers of Gor page 205

* * *

Elizabeth glared at her offending wardrobe. Was it a date? He last date had been almost ten years before, she simply wasn't on the market for most men. Most men didn't give her more than a cursory glance once the fact that she spoke with her hands gave them a reality check. She reached into the wardrobe and yanked out a blue dress, staring at it for a moment before snorting in disgust and shoving it back in with the rest of her meager belongings. She drummed her fingers on the desk, glancing toward the door. Her mercurial housemate had disappeared after breakfast, presumably to the school, as she should have as well. Her syllabus had already been finalized and left on the Headmistress's desk by midmorning, and her supply list was complete, and needed only rechecking before being turned in the next day. And yet here it was, just past noon and she found herself at loose ends.

The man was a puzzle, one she wasn't quite sure it would ever be possible to unravel. He had an acidic tongue, a baritone voice and oh how she imagined it truly sounded, not the garbled sound through her implant, but how it truly sounded. Elizabeth pursed her lips as she pushed the door to her wardrobe shut and reached for her cell phone, sending a quick text message to Hermione begging for her help with the strangest conundrum she'd ever had. That accomplished, she tucked her phone into her pocket and lifted her hand, flicking a finger toward the door to send it flying shut with a resounding slam so loud it vibrated the floor beneath her feet. She hunted down her wand and added a silencing charm, warding it for good measure before she turned to the narrow little bed that was hers.

She crouched down, drawing the case that contained her most precious treasure free and glanced toward the lace curtain over the window that faced out to the lake. Scant moments later, she sat in the rickety chair, guitar in hand. Her fingers strummed over the instrument, the caress one that carried a world of hope and love, much as one would sensuously tease a lover. Elizabeth rested a hand atop the body of the guitar, her eyes closing as she strummed the lower E string, deftly adjusting the tuner until the vibration was sweet and pure, the feeling she knew so well, the sound she remembered as if she'd only heard it a moment before.

Her voice, so weakened and uncontrolled in her moments of speaking, was employed with a skill she remembered, one she knew in her bones, and though she didn't hear it, she felt it as she hummed along with the tune she played. Even as the first chords of a hymn rang out through the room, she felt her tension beginning to slip away. There had been a time when music was her life, when the rhythms that she spoke of had been as much a part of her as flesh and blood and sinew and bone. Now, there was only memory and vibration. She remembered a C in its sharp, sweet cadence, the sweet full belied intonation of the D as it laced through the air, warming her spirit.

The words were barely given volume, they were meaningless, it mattered though, that her voice found purchase in this moment, lifting her spirits and letting them soar. She didn't know how long passed, she took no measure of time, but instead let her fingers do the singing, her voice playing accompaniment to her ballad, unheard but cherished and loved as one might love a child who'd been lost.

It was not until her phone vibrated in her pocket that she was ripped from her reverie. Her stomach was unclenched, her body soothed, her fingers tender and she knew then it had to have been hours. She put away the guitar into its case, pushing it beneath the bed and out of sight once more, pulling her phone out to check the time. Half past three. Had she really been playing so long? Elizabeth unwarded the door and released the silencing charm, making her way downstairs to greet her apprentice, who stood cautiously by the front door. In her hands she held her phone and a small duffel bag.

Hermione gave her a quizzical gaze and stepped inside. "How is life with Professor Snape?"

Elizabeth snorted, not missing the quirk of the lips that told that Hermione knew something she didn't. "Peaceful mostly. We … talked. It seems to be cleared up for now. But about the dress…?"

Hermione gestured toward the stairs. "Are we alone?"

Elizabeth nodded confirmation and trailed after Hermione toward the miniscule kitchen, watching as she deposited the bag on the table and unzipped it, shaking out a carefully folded black dress. Elizabeth's eyes widened for a moment as she took in the cut, the length, and immediately shook her head. "Oh hell no. I can't wear that. He'll think I'm a complete slut!"

The younger woman's head shot up. "Who will?"

She realized her error a moment too late and colored bright pink. She drew herself up to her full height, though missed topping Hermione by a good few inches. Elizabeth squared her shoulders and shook her head firmly. "Just never you mind. I have a date, and you don't need to know who with. But… maybe we can transfigure it to be a bit longer."

Hermione's attention was sufficiently distracted as she pushed the dress at her with instructions to go and try it on. To Elizabeth's surprise, it wasn't as bad as she thought. What would have been mid-thigh on the younger woman brushed her knees modestly, though the neckline plunged dangerously low. The mirror didn't lie apparently and Elizabeth stared at her reflection before giving a nod and dashing down the stairs once more. She was greeted with a pair of black stilettos shoved beneath her nose. "We're the same size." Hermione smirked smugly and Elizabeth blanched.

She hesitated for a moment before accepting the shoes and glancing down at her exposed cleavage. "I don't know where we're going for dinner. Maybe this is too much."

Hermione's smug expression didn't shift as she shook her head slowly. "It's a little black dress and a pair of pumps. Unless you're going to a club, which is pointless for you, or the opera, there is no function or setting in which a little black dress can't work. Now then, if you need to be ready by six, you have just enough time to shower and get your hair done. I'll be busy tonight myself, having a bit of a catchup with Neville. I'll get the dress from you tomorrow. Enjoy yourself." With that, the younger woman was gone in a flurry, leaving Elizabeth standing barefoot in the kitchen clutching the shoes as she stared after her apprentice in open bewilderment.

She cleared her throat, murmuring the words to an empty room belatedly. "Thanks…" She shook her hair and turned to trudge up the stairs once more. She was in way over her head. It was going to be a disaster. What the hell had she been thinking, not protesting when he'd issued his edict? She recalled all too well what she'd been thinking. The man exuded strength and intelligence, and that look in his eye had been undeniable. She'd been so bowled over by it, by realizing what it was, that she hadn't thought to protest. After all, the man had delivered the invitation wrapped in a command, and though she was no shrinking violet, the woman in her relished a man who took charge. She huffed the word out a bit churlishly as she tossed the dress onto her bed along with the shoes. "Weak."

* * *

He stared into the mirror, his lips quirked upward into a half-sneer as he stared at himself. Severus Snape was not accustomed to putting much thought into his mode of dress. Teaching garb was simple. He'd found something suitable years ago and stuck with it. Muggle garb was also black. Black slacks and a black oxford shirt and he was ready, most of the time. However, tonight he'd gone so far as to don a vest, also black. It hung open and he had worried with it for a full ten minutes before the sneer had descended. He cleared his throat and pulled his hair back carefully into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. Better. His dragonhide boots were sturdy, polished as usual to a low sheen, and he had foregone shaving. Five o'clock shadow was the price he paid for staying hunched over his desk until half past five. He barely had time to shower before having to fling on his standard of muggle wear. Snape hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning the collar of the shirt. The scars from Nagini's attack were still clear, but damn if he was going to cover up for the woman.

He tugged at his cuffs, unaccustomed to them ending so far above the thumb. He felt naked without the added protection of his usual layers. He reached for the cashmere overcoat that hung inside the wardrobe and pushed the door closed, tugging it on. It was cool, but not uncomfortable though as the evening wore on a chill would creep in.

Severus emerged from his bedroom, glancing across the landing toward Connell's door. It was closed as firmly as it had been when he'd passed by fifteen minutes before. Dread filled his stomach for a moment, wondering if the woman had meant to reject his invitation. He shook his head. _Mustn't think that way, Severus. She looked too. _He turned for the stairs and was rewarded with the sight of the woman standing beside the fireplace. She didn't turn when he stepped lightly onto the scarred wooden floor and briefly he wondered if she would be able to feel the vibration of his step.

She wore a simple black dress, something that looked like chiffon over silk, brushing the backs of her legs. He was rewarded with the sight of one bare shoulder exposed to him as the wrap around her slipped aside. Instantly, his body roused in response. Her hair was caught back in the same severe bun he'd seen her wear the evening before, and his fingers itched instantly to dive into it, unfastening the pins to see exactly how long it was. He wanted her.

He observed her a moment longer before experimentally lifting his foot and stomping it down, instantly rewarded with her head jerking up from her examination of the book she held. Her eyes were wide, startled. A smile slipped over her lips as she guiltily closed the book and returned it to his desk. He chose not to notice the violation of the house rules in favor of stepping toward her. How did one begin a date these days? He'd not thought beyond the obvious. He wasn't the most charming man in existence, and his experience was pretty much limited to getting laid on occasion, and usually that was a matter of business, though after the war had ended, women willing to warm his bed had not been in any short supply. He'd turned most of them down.

Now though, he found himself staring down at Connell, his thought bordering on lewd and for just a moment, he wondered if this were a bad idea. He lifted his hands, hesitating for a moment before bracing one hand beneath his elbow, the other curling awkwardly as he prayed to whatever gods there truly were that he got it right. "Good evening." Her face lit up as if he'd handed her the moon, pleasure lighting her eyes as she surged toward him, rising on her toes and brushing a kiss over his cheek.

He barely caught the whispered words, wondered in fact if she even realized she'd vocalized them. "What a lovely surprise!" He smirked as he lowered a hand to take her by the elbow. The evening was indeed off to a good start.


End file.
